


Storytelling

by Fabrisse



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 22:38:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabrisse/pseuds/Fabrisse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Christmas Day, Ichabod tells Abbie, Jenny, and Frank a story from his past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storytelling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arem/gifts).



Tensions were rising at the Mills house. 

Abbie glared at her sister, “Remember, I carry a gun.”

Jenny focused on her tightly, “Remember, I don’t need one to kill you.”

Ichabod said, “Ladies, allow me to suggest an alternative activity. This ‘Monopoly’ was clearly developed by the devil to prevent harmony in the home.”

The sisters turned to glare at him.

Frank giggled and said, “While I don’t doubt the Parker Brothers were a bit fiendish, I don’t think a board game is high on Moloch’s ‘to-do’ list.”

All three of the others turned their glares on him.

“Captain, I’m going to start a demon jar. It’s like a swear jar, but this is for every time you say a demon’s name or mention the Horseman when we’re not on the case.” Abbie ran out to the kitchen and came back with a clean jar.

“So I have to pay you for mentioning the trouble you brought down on _me_.”

“It seems most unfair, Captain, to blame the Lieutenant for what is clearly the work of outside forces.”

Frank shook his head. “Crane, I was joking.”

Abbie said, “Well, I wasn’t. End of each month we’ll give the cash to charity, all right?” She held out the jar, and Frank dropped a dollar into it.

“My apologies, Captain.”

Frank said, “So let’s do one of your Christmas traditions.”

Abbie shook her head. “Really, you don’t want to hear this.”

“In my day, there were church services if one were Anglican or even Methodist.”

“There were Methodists?” Frank said.

“A few. They were a very new sect. Nowhere near the population of the Friends, even.”

Frank said, “Friends?”

Jenny whispered, “Quakers.”

“That term was considered somewhat derogatory. Most others, the Calvinists of different stripes, insisted that Christmas be treated no differently from any other day, as all of the celebrations smacked of paganism.”

“Not even a turkey?” Frank said.

“Possibly, if one had been hunting, but pork was the primary fare in the winter.”

Jenny said, “But stories around the fire, that happened, right?”

“Yes, Miss Jenny, but one did not need it to be Christmas.”

Jenny smiled at him. “Were they ghost stories?”

“Some were, again if one were not a Calvinist.”

Abbie said, “Those Calvinists sound like a bundle of laughs.”

Ichabod caught her eye and amusement twinkled in them. “Honestly, a laughing Calvinist seems contradictory.”

“But you could tell us a story. Did you know, I don’t know, Thomas Jefferson or John Adams or Benjamin Franklin? Do you have a ghost story, I mean other than the one we’re living with the Horseman and all.”

Abbie held out the swear jar to her sister who tried to take Frank’s dollar before dropping in one of her own. Everyone smiled at that.

“I met Jefferson, very briefly, when General Washington asked me to ride some dispatches to Philadelphia, not long before I met up with the Horseman.” He pulled out a small coin and dropped it into the jar. “It’s pure silver. It should cover at least two mentions.” 

The others laughed.

Ichabod continued, “Adams was not present that day… Franklin. Yes, I have a story, though I hasten to add, no ghosts were present.”

Jenny said, “We’ll forgive you.”

“As you no doubt are aware, Franklin was a natural philosopher of great note. One of my first duties, I felt it, upon arriving in the Colonies was to write him a letter of admiration for his work.”

“Weren’t you on the other side?” Abbie said.

“Indeed, I was, Lieutenant, but that did not mean I couldn’t esteem his scientific work. He wrote me back. It was long. I’d mentioned his support of Euler and Huygens for the wave theory of light, which, as a philologist, was far outside my specialty, but seemed of great interest. He greeted me as a fellow Mason, discoursed on his support for the theory, and asked me how, as a man of free thought, I could support the King over the freedom of the colonies. It was truly remarkable that he chose to answer.”

Ichabod sipped at the hot cider Abbie had made before they began playing before he continued. “Long before I delivered my dispatches, Franklin was appointed the Colonies representative to France. The problem was there were blockades and Franklin had a price on his head. He needed to find a ship’s captain and crew that was perfectly trustworthy and be certain that they were not seen by the blockade. You can imagine the difficulty.”

Frank said, “Not really.”

Abbie said, “A crew that could run the blockade easily was likely to be untrustworthy, and the trustworthy ships would have a hard time leaving American waters.”

“Precisely, Lieutenant. Although, Mary-land was more divided in its loyalties than Pennsylvania, the Chesapeake Bay afforded more ships, and there was a Captain, known to be loyal to the Continental Congress, who could get Franklin to France, if only Franklin could be gotten to a particular dock on the Eastern shore of the Chesapeake. There was a three day window where Captain Jameson and his men could provision close by and send a long boat to the dock once a day to collect Franklin if he were there.”

Jenny said, “Didn’t Franklin have gout.”

“Yes, and that was part of the problem. He could not be dispatched by fast horse because the gout made it difficult for him to ride. It was always simpler to hide a horse and rider than a carriage. While most roads were known to belong to one side or the other, a skirmish could change that. A horse and rider could escape across the countryside, but a carriage was hardly an… off-road vehicle.”

Frank shook his head. “You’ve been watching _Duck Dynasty_ again.”

“Indeed not, Captain. Miss Jenny has introduced me to the wonders of _Top Gear_.”

Abbie looked at her sister. “I was serious about the gun. No one would miss you.”

“Untrue, Abbie. I believe you would miss her, at least occasionally, and Captain Irving would miss her most deeply.”

Jenny said, “And you wouldn’t?”

“I trust Abigail’s judgment. If she needed to shoot you, I’m certain it would be the right choice.”

Jenny’s eyes got very wide and then she caught the teasing in Ichabod’s demeanor. She laughed. “It’s good to know I’ll be missed. And good to know Abbie’s got a partner who will back her up.”

Ichabod said, “Always.” 

Abbie said, “Go on with your story, Crane.”

“It was mostly a problem solving story.”

Frank said, “Did you take him in a mail carriage?”

“Very good, Captain. Yes, it was the one type of carriage that could go across either road.”

“So Franklin left the country by getting tied up in a mail sack?” Abbie said.

“No. The mail coaches were relatively safe, but their contents were only marginally so. The British, in particular, were likely to examine the mail for letters to known agitators, like Jefferson, Adams, and Franklin himself. Those would be read and sent on, or destroyed, or saved as evidence should an agitator be brought to trial. If they couldn’t be bothered, or had word someone was trying to use a mail carriage to leave a blockaded city, they would merely bayonet the bags.”

“Which would be worse than gout,” Frank said.

“I’ve known many sufferers of the gout, and I believe they might disagree with you, Captain.” Ichabod smiled. “But that was indeed a consideration. No, I drove the carriage and Mister Franklin put on his rudest clothing -- aged buckskin leather, a hat of seal fur, and a cape of miscellaneous pelts -- and sat beside me on the driver’s bench with a primed and loaded rifle across his knee. No one on either side mistook him for the illustrious Doctor Franklin, author of _Poor Richard’s Almanac_ , scientist, and revolutionary.”

Jenny said, “And Captain Jameson…”

“Was a man of his word. Half an hour after dark, the longboat came for Franklin. I went out and delivered and picked up mail -- for verisimilitude and returned to Philadelphia a week later with my report before taking dispatches back to General Washington.”

“What did he do for clothes? I mean, if he wore that outfit for the voyage, and that took weeks, he must have _reeked_ ,” Abbie said.

“There were few facilities for bathing on a voyage, it’s true, but Captain Jameson had been apprised of Doctor Franklin’s need and paid to purchase necessary clothing in Baltimore. Franklin’s papers -- including his letters verifying his appointment as the Colonial representative -- were hidden under that outlandish cape. No one searched him because he not only looked ferocious, it was assumed he couldn’t read.”

Abbie said, “I have to admit, this is nicer than fighting over Boardwalk and Park Place.”

“You’re quite wrong, Lieutenant. You were preparing to shoot your sister over Baltic Avenue. Clearly, you have a competitive nature.”

“Never change, Crane.”


End file.
